


Vultures

by soncnica



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Jensen, Brief Jensen/OFC, Explicit Language, Implied Age Difference, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Underage Sex, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Mystery, No Sex, Original Character Death(s), Weirdness All Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 17:11:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10518174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soncnica/pseuds/soncnica
Summary: He lives in that house; him and the others. They’re all family.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is NOT MINE! ALL IS FICTION.
> 
> A/N: I really have no idea what else to tag this fic with. I hate tagging, I really do, but I think I got the gist of it.

                                                                          

 

"What _are_ you doing?"  
  
Jensen stood in front of a low bench that had its home in the middle of Jared's room; the seat of it was covered in blood red fabric that he didn’t know the name of, but knew that when he sat on it butt naked, felt really warm and really soft under his skin. He appreciated that, because he really didn’t like it when any surface Jared stretched him on, chaffed at his skin. But, he suspected, if the bench could talk, it wouldn’t like him, because of all the stains and ruffled fabric that he made with his bodily fluids and fingernails.  
  
So he stood there, knees almost touching the edge of it and tried not to blush with any memories that tried to resurface, because that wasn’t the point of his visit here. Not at all. He watched as Jared was, quite ruthlessly to be honest, throwing clothes into a plastic bag. It wasn't one of those trash bags, no, this one had a zipper on one side and it was quite big, laying across the huge bed.  
  
The question didn't stop Jared with what he was doing though, because he kept on bringing clothes from the closet that stood on Jensen's left to the big, king sized bed right in front of him.  
  
He kept on walking back and forth; the room was big and the distance closet-bed took Jared around four big steps.  
  
Jensen kept turning his head left and center, left and center, left and center, following Jared’s every step. It was sort of mesmerizing in a very weird kind of way. But if Jared would continue to do this for some more time, he suspected he'd get a crick in his neck and Jared would exhaust himself and demand an early afternoon nap. Which just wouldn’t do, because the day was lovely; sunny, bright and warm and perhaps the last of its kind before the winter would come.  
  
"What's it look like I'm doing?"  
  
Frankly, Jensen had no clue. He could guess though. He knew that Jared wasn’t packing to leave anywhere, because if that was the case, Jensen would’ve been asked to pack too, so … yeah … that wasn’t what the man was doing.  
  
"Ummm, putting clothes into a plastic bag?" he shrugged, but Jared was too busy walking back and forth to notice.  
  
He sighed. Jared was a man of ... well, he was a man that bended life to suit his needs. Yes, that was a good description of the guy. Jensen had been with him, living in this huge manor for a lot of years now, and what a life it had been. But even after all these years, Jared still managed to throw a curve ball at him, one that he was always destined not to catch.  
  
"Yup, that's exactly what I'm doin’."  
  
Jared said and pushed a thin coat into the bag, patted the top and zipped it up. The bag was bulging with all the clothes, Jensen thought that half of them should've gone in another bag, but that was Jared.  
  
Bending volumes of plastic bags to suit his needs, also.  
  
The sun showed around nine in the morning, give or take an hour, but it was bright, and it was warm as it shone through the huge floor to ceiling window on Jensen's right. There were flecks of dust swimming in the air, illuminated by the streaks of sunlight.  
  
The room was spacious; the floor made of cobblestone, gray but still very warm or perhaps that was just because the room was Jared's and everything about that man was warm.  
  
Even the walls, made of cobblestone as well, were warm even if they should've been cold as ice. But, well, that was Jared, Jensen supposed. Even stone bended to fill his needs.  
  
"'kay, all packed."  
  
Even that gave Jensen zero information about what the hell Jared was doing, but he was patient. He'd get his answers soon enough.  
  
And sure enough, when Jared picked up the bag, his muscles straining and bulging around a pristine white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tossed it on the ground beside the bed, Jensen got his answer.  
  
"So, that's my fall clothes all packed up. Now, I have to get to the attic to get my winter clothes. I think that," he kicked the bag with his leg and the bag went sliding across the floor, under the low bench Jensen was standing in front of to stop at the other side of the room, under another low bench, "the winter is gonna be,” he clapped his hands together in glee, “cold."  
  
So, basically, Jared had been doing his variation of spring, uh, autumn cleaning. He rolled his eyes, pretty sure that Jared saw it this time, but the man said nothing. All he got in return was a smirk and eyes glowing with a heavy dose of glee – all of that never spelled anything good for Jensen.  
  
He wanted to sigh again, but restrained himself, not wanting to give the man any satisfaction whatsoever to see just how annoyed Jared made him.  
  
“Riiight…” he mumbled and watched as Jared grabbed a gray, almost silver vest from the bed and started walking towards the door, all the while getting the vest to sit perfectly on him, hugging all the right places that left Jensen think about how all those right places felt under his fingers.  
  
Jared wasn’t a fashion guru, that was for sure, but still, somehow, all the clothes he wore, fit him like a glove. Style and color vise and how Jared managed that, Jensen still hadn’t figured out.  
  
And that was the moment his brain finally decided to come back from the dead and told him that there was actually a reason why he was in Jared's room so early in the morning.  
  
"Wait, I have to ..." he started to say, but Jared's long legs had already carried the man to the door and he was starting to push them open.  
  
One more second and he'd lose the man in the hallway and he really didn’t want to talk about this in places where everyone else in the house could hear him. This was a private matter, one he really wanted to discuss with Jared and Jared alone, without any other audience.  
  
"Jared, wait ..."  
  
Too late. Jared was opening the door and had one foot already out on the hallway and this was the end of this rather short discussion. Actually it had never even been a discussion, it was more of a _Jensen watches what Jared is doing with a stupefied expression on his face_ , kind of a thing.  
  
"Damn it."  
  
"Whatever it is, you can tell me at breakfast, come on, I'm starving."  
  
No, actually, he really couldn't talk about this during breakfast, because this was between him and Jared and no one else's business.  
  
Damn it.  
  
He clenched his fingers into a fist; he was angry, but all right. He could handle this. Maybe he’d get Jared alone sometime during the day. The chances were slim, but he wouldn’t lose hope. Surely, the others had things to do during the afternoon and not just hang around the manor all day long. Right?  
  
Riiiiight.  
  
He made his legs obey him and ran after the man, barely catching the heavy wooden door before it closed on him. While he really enjoyed spending his time in Jared’s room, he actually never wanted to be in there … alone.  
  
He wasn’t a scaredy-cat, but like he said, the room was spacious, bright, warm, letting in the sun from late morning to late evening, with a view on literally hundreds of brick-red roofs of the town's houses, that stretched below the window. No house in town was build higher than this manor, so there was also nothing blocking the view of the sky.  
  
How many times had Jared fucked him, while he held on to the cold glass of the window for dear life, his eyes glazed over with pleasure, but still being able to see all those bright stars. Still being able to see all the lights in the windows, still being conscious that if someone would come to the roof of the nearby houses, they’d be able to see him and his dick rubbing on the slick surface of the window.  
  
He gulped.  
  
It was a very lively town too. Houses build, small and big, thin and fat, all pressed together with only room for toothpick thin streets to run among them. Some roofs had thin chimneys, while others had nothing. Some roofs had antennas on them, some had nothing.  
Those that weren’t slopped down, had small terraces on them, a place for people to get their green thumb on, making gardens for vegetables or even fruit trees. Some of those had clothes lines attached from one side to the other, for the ladies of the house to dry clothes on. Lively town, and the noise from the market place a mile away, nestled in the middle of the town could be heard straight into Jared's room, if the window was opened. Sometimes the breeze carried in the smell of fabric softener, or food cooking. The laughter of children and indistinct chatter could also be heard, when the window was open and all of that combined; the room felt alive. Felt as if it  
was soaking up all the life and becoming nicer, bigger, fresher. He couldn’t describe it and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to. It was his little secret, to know that the room was a living creature.  
  
Noises and smells and the view on hundreds of rooftops and a shimmering glimpse of tree tops way, way in the distance ... it filled the room up. Made it better than any other room in the manor, made it way, way better than his own room down on the first floor, pushed into shadows and next to the kitchen. It was great for whenever he wanted a midnight snack, but his room had absolutely no view, had no sunlight, just light from the candles he had sitting on his desk. He’d told Jared once, that his room reminded him of somewhere a monk would live, but Jared just laughed and told him to stop being dramatic. He wasn’t being dramatic, thank you very much, it was the truth, but then he remembered that having a room so far away from the living quarters of the rest of the manor’s inhabitants, was what had kept his sanity intact all these years. He could handle them all just fine, but there were times when he really needed some sort of space to breathe and that it was off limits to everyone else – except for Jared. They all respected that, it was a rule made by Jared and no one disobeyed the man.  
  
But the room without Jared in it, seemed ... dead. Cold. Lifeless. Nothing from the outside could fill the room with life as much as Jared could. As soon as Jared left the room, the walls turned into gray, cold stone, no matter how bright the sun made them shine. The floor turned into stone too, filling his whole body with cold from the soles of his feet up to the tips of his hair. Shadows immediately made nests in the corners, next to the bed, under the low benches and especially behind the heavy velvet curtains. Dust became thick and alive like tumbleweed, the wood the furniture was made of, became rotten and worm eaten. It also became loud; critters eating bugs, spiders running around the ceiling, worms eating their way through anything wooden, moths munching on the curtains, spider webs being build. So loud and so rotten. Grimy. Dirty. Carcasses of dead insects lying in the corners, light becoming dim, low, muted.

So yes, he hurried after Jared as fast as he could. Of course he'd never tell any of that to the man, because he'd never hear the end of it and Jared had a lot of material to tease him about already, so he really didn’t' need to add more.  
  
The sound of the door closing behind him, made him flinch, but he walked on.  
  
The hallway, wasn't actually a hallway. It was just five long steps of a creaky, wooden-planks-haphazardly-nailed-together platform really, followed straight away by a wide winding staircase. Jared's room had once been the actual attic of the manor, but as the story went, when more people moved in, Jared decided to build another floor. It was for the best really, because now everyone had their own rooms and Jared took the best of ‘em all.  
  
Over the handrail, he could see Jared be on the next floor already and he sighed again. All of his fear of the room didn’t make him fast enough to catch the man and now he had to go to breakfast and pretend that he wasn’t annoyed. Well, that wouldn’t fly, because he was annoyed and he wanted everyone to know it.  
  
Damn it.  
  
He rolled his eyes, hung his head down and sighed again.  
  
And sighing, apparently, was becoming a thing he would do most during this day, if the morning was anything to go by.  
  
He hurried his steps, but still being incredibly careful. The stairs, even wide as they were, were old, wooden and over-used throughout the centuries. The best way to walk down them, was to stick to the side the handrail was on. He could, of course, stick to the other side, keep his hand on the wall, but the wall was cold and didn’t really offer anything to grip if he should slip. And there were paintings on it that he’d have to avoid, and candles, and spider webs, and it was just too much trouble. And probably crazy thick layers of dust, because he wasn’t sure when the last time someone cleaned that side of the staircase was. If he’d been a better man, he’d do it himself.  
  
So he stick to the handrail; it was thick, wide and made of dark wood that became even darker with age so that it was now almost black. There were some very visible paths that worms made in it, but he ignored them. Between him breaking his neck or getting a feel of a wood worm, he knew what he’d chose.  
  
The middle of every stair was dented, from all the feet that had walked on them through the centuries. And if one wasn't careful, one could step on the side of those holes, trip and fall down breaking their necks.  
  
But the stairs were safe on the sides, the wood still strong there, but he figured that in a few decades the wood would dent there too and then they’d have to consider renovating the whole staircase.  
  
He carefully glided his hand down the handrail, because even if it had been polished by many, many hands in the past, there were still parts of it, that had splinters sticking out, or the wood was dented also. The manor, old as it was, had its tricks and he thought that he had discovered them all, but the house always knew how to surprise him. Just like Jared.  
  
In the early days, when he'd laid in his bed in the silent stillness of the night, he could've sworn he could feel the house breathe. It took him a few decades to notice that the house breathed in synch with Jared. He was used to it now, it didn't terrify him anymore, not like it did back then. He had many sleepless nights back then, a lot of fear and anxiety. But now, it was comforting. Now, it felt as if he fell asleep with his head on Jared’s chest. Even if he was three stories away from the man, that feel of breathing rocked him right into deep sleep.  
  
Jared was a fast mouse and he was far behind, the stairs with their damn secrets not allowing him to up his pace. Through the space between the banisters, he could see Jared already down on the first floor, nearing the front door.  
  
"Damn it."  
  
His chance to speak to Jared alone was clearly completely shot for today but he'd have to work harder on it tomorrow.  
  
He watched as Jared took a left, going to the breakfast hall and he could already hear the others wishing Jared good mornings and how you do's. He wanted to sigh, but restrained himself, because if no one can hear your irk, then what’s the point. But he sped up his pace, cringing when the stairs made noises as if he was choking them with his feet.  
  
As the staircase righted itself into more of a straight line and he could already see the front door, he knew he was already off the hook of any falls and slips. But that wasn't to say that the stairs weren't dangerous anymore, they still held secrets and hidden traps, but at least if he fell here, he wouldn't fall far. Only about ten or so stairs.  
  
He kept his hand on the handrail, refusing to let go and when he got halfway down his hand touched something soft and warm on a part of the handrail that straightened itself up for just one step.  
  
Once upon a time, he'd scream in dizzy terror, but now, he stopped and petted the darn thing.  
  
"Hey, Lucius."  
  
The black cat meowed and butted its head against his palm, demanding some more petting. The cat was an impeccable hunter, leaving bloody trials of small game it hunted all over the place, but from Jensen it never wanted anything else, but a cuddle here and there. Even when its fur was matted with drying blood, it would still jump on his bed and demand cuddling. He'd slept on bloodied sheets more times in his life that he ever wanted to.  
  
The cat purred and twisted its head this way and that, offering him its whiskers.  
  
"Aww, Lucius, you don't have to mark me."  
  
In hindsight, perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, because the side of his palm would carry that scratch for a long time.  
  
"Seriously?!"  
  
It looked him right in the eyes, big green ones shining like emeralds dipped into tar, and meowed, while getting up, raising up its tail, turning around and showing him its butt. And then sitting down, turning its back on him.  
  
Ignored.  
  
That was the end of that conversation, then. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be seeing the cat for a week and some change and then one day he'd get into his room and have bloody paw prints all over the sheets. And the pillow. And the cat would be sleeping stretched out across his whole bed, giving no shits about anything.  
  
Joy.  
  
But he refused to sigh. He didn't want to give it any satisfaction.  
  
"Have it your way, but if I'll find bloody paw prints on my bed, you're gonna get yourself a wash."  
  
The tip of its tail curved upwards as one big, fat, furry, fuck you.  
  
He wanted to say something more, but was distracted by two things; one was Jared's deep, echoing laugh coming from the breakfast hall and as he looked there, he could see Jared sitting down and nodding while putting butter on toast. And the second thing was, the front door opening.  
  
The staircase ended into a foyer that ended up with huge doors made of thick, almost unbreakable glass. The sunlight or moonlight or darkness could always penetrate the glass, but nothing else could. He liked that the foyer was in bright, creamy colors. He didn’t know who made it be like that, he doubted it was Jared or anyone else living in the house – none of them seemed like ‘bright, creamy’ colors to him. But there it was; bright and nice with a huge window serving as a wall on the right side. The glass of the window, had been painted once upon a time, the picture still visible in parts, but very hard to decipher what it depicted. Sometimes he just stood there in the middle of the foyer, staring at the window, trying to see what it could be, but all he got was trees and perhaps a horse. Could have also been a dog? And maybe mountains. Maybe someday, he’d get a professional to have a look at it.  
  
But not today.  
  
He slowly took the rest of the stairs down, stopped and waited to see what the newcomer would say once she'd close the door.  
  
They were heavy, he knew that, even he had trouble closing them occasionally, and for such a petite woman that was struggling with them, it must've really been hard.  
  
She was grunting and pushing at the door and perhaps he should’ve gone over there and help, but he was already feeling pissy. The morning hadn't exactly gone the way he planned and judging by this women coming, the rest of his day would probably not go well either.  
  
He should just go crawl back to bed.

 

                                                                          

  
The door closing with a clung that nearly shook the house apart made him concentrate back on the matter at hand. He crossed his arms on his chest and widened his stance, because yes, he was pissy and he wanted the world to know.  
  
"Who're you?"  
  
The woman startled and all but jumped to turn around, clutching at her chest.  
  
"You scared me."  
  
"Wasn’t my intention, but you didn't exactly ring the bell either so ..."  
  
He watched as she collected herself; adjusted the grip on her purse, pushed her breasts out and pulled her stomach in. A Lady, then.  
  
All right. But still, that didn’t give her permission to just barge in here like that without announcing herself.  
  
"'m here to see Jared."  
  
He nodded. Sure, why not. A lot of people wanted to see Jared, it wasn't anything unusual, although usually, they did come around with a lot more fear and a hell of a lot more respect.  
  
But whatever Jared and this woman had of business between them, that was no concern of his.  
  
"I'll go get him."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He nodded and uncrossed his arms but just as he was about to turn to his left to go fetch Jared, a deep voice interrupted him.  
  
"Who's she?"  
  
It was Rolland, the butler slowly making his way from the breakfast hall to the foyer.  
  
The man must've been a hundred or more years old, the way he walked like all of his bones would break if he'd walk faster than the speed of a snail. His skin was wrinkly and sagged, his hands were sometimes shaking with tremors that came and went, his head was bald, except for a lock of gray hair right in the middle and his left eye was completely gray, cataract setting in and staying. His nose was fat and covered with black spots, and his cheeks bore the scars of a pimply youth.  
  
"Dunno Rolland, but she wants to see Jared."  
  
He had no time for this anymore. This, taking guests, was Rolland’s job not his and he was hungry and just so done with this day already and when he turned to go and find some food, he heard the woman say: "I'm the great granddaughter of ..."  
  
And the rest got lost in the distance. He didn't care whose what she was, all he had eyes on was butter, toast, coffee. Oh sweet coffee, he could smell it already. Could smell it already even when he’d still been in Jared's room.  
  
Because of how spacious the manor was, how much room there was everywhere, smell could travel into every nook and cranny of the house and stay there for days. Sometimes he could still smell Monday’s lunch on a Friday.  
  
The breakfast hall, well, it wasn't an actual ‘breakfast’ hall, it was more like a big ballroom with a table in it, that at meal times quivered under the weight of all the food.  
  
But otherwise it was used more or less just in passing, when one needed to go from one side of the manor to the other.  
  
As he made his way to the table that stood in the center of the room, he could see everyone – minus three - drinking their coffee standing by a fountain, chatting among themselves, not even noticing he came into the room. Which was just fine by him.  
  
It was bright, the sunlight coming in from the windows all around the walls and as he sat down opposite Jared, he opened his mouth to say something, but once again got interrupted. This really wasn't his morning.  
  
"Jared, sir, there's a woman here to see you."  
  
He wanted to snicker at how every muscle in Jared's body relaxed under extreme irritation. Jared was an inch before banging his head on the table, but all he did was exhale really loudly and got up from his chair. He and Rolland walked a few feet away to stand next to the fountain of a naked lady carrying a vase spilling water. Jensen never liked that fountain, because a) why was it even there and b) the sound of the water always made him want to pee like a racehorse.  


                                                                         

  
The toast looked well done and the butter was already melting from the warmth of the room, but as he grabbed for the toast he could hear Jared say: "Everyone, I want you to meet someone. This is ... wait, what's your name?" and as he grabbed for a knife, he could hear Jared say: "This is miss _I didn't give you one_. She says she's the great granddaughter of …" the sentence got cut off when he dropped his knife on the plate. Clumsy him. But as he began spreading the salty butter on the warm toast he could hear everyone _ooo_ and _uuu_ and _aaa_ about the woman. And as he was finally taking a long overdue bite, he heard Jared sit back down on the chair with a sigh. He knew how that felt, yeah.  
  
He chewed on the delicious toast, keeping his eyes on Jared.  
  
Once he swallowed, he asked: "So, who's she?"  
  
"It's miss _I didn’t give you one_. Apparently she's somehow related to me."  
  
The serious way Jared said that, made him laugh which made him cough, nearly choking on the damn stray piece of toast: "You know that's not really her name, right?"  
  
Jared had a twinkle in his eye that never spelled anything good. Well, good for other people that was. But for him it always spelled gonnafuckyousomuchcomeisgonnadripoutofyourassfordays.  
  
He coughed some more and put his free hand under the table, needing to adjust something in his groin.  
  
"I know, 'm not stupid."  
  
"Definitely not."  
  
No, Jared wasn't stupid. And if anyone would even imply such a thing, Jensen would break their necks between one breath and the next.  
  
He smiled as he saw over Jared's shoulder, everyone greeting the woman. Annabel, was woooow-ing over the woman’s hairdo; a neatly styled bun at the top of her head. Annabel was touching it, as if she had never seen such a thing. Astor was checking out the woman’s breasts that spilled nicely into her dress and that the corset held high up, really giving them all quite a look and yes, Jensen noticed. The miss _I didn’t give you one_ ’s hourglass figure totally enchanted Corrine, even though, Jensen had seen Corrine completely naked once and her figure was definitely better than the woman’s. She was touching the woman’s waist, trying to measure it, if Jensen was to guess and then she moved her hands up to the woman’s breasts, trying to see how she managed to hold them up so perfectly.  
  
Shaking his head, he took another toast from a pile that was rapidly disappearing somewhere – Jared’s mouth – and nearly poked himself in the eye with the knife when Corrine left out a high pitch squeal that echoed through the whole manor and made Lucius hiss.  
Jared snorted and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, when some coffee ran out of his mouth at the snort.  
  
“Girls.” He whispered, as if it was a secret just for the two of them.  
  
Jensen just nodded, because yeah, girls.

Well to be honest, though, he didn’t know much about girls, not really. All he had were very vague, very clouded memories of his mother and decades of living under this roof with Jared’s three cousins. Corrine was the one who taught him all about the woman’s body, let him touch her wherever he wanted, but it didn’t entice him much. What did make him go all weak and make his mouth water, was … Jared.  
  
But he did have fond memories of how Corrine pulled him into her room when he’d been fourteen, all awkward and shy, pulled him all the way over to her bed and let her nightgown fall to the floor. He’d never seen anyone naked before that, especially not a woman. But that evening, when dusk had been especially orange and red, he saw breasts for the first time. Held them in his hands, how soft they were, how bouncy, how the nipples hardened when he slid his fingertip over them. It made him laugh, and it made Corrine laugh too, but then she spread herself on her bed and showed him everything. Opened herself up to his fingers, but all he got from that had been sticky fingers and a weird smell.  
  
He’d been blushing something awful and she noticed how she hadn’t been doing anything for him at all and when he’d been about to leave, apologizing profusely, she leaned to him, and whispered: “It’s all right, Jensen. You’re too young for Jared still, but give it a year or two and you’ll be all his.”  
  
She’d been right, of course.  


                                                                                 

  
Another giggle, this one from Annabel, made him want to bang his head against the table, but instead he looked into their direction, watching how everyone danced and walked around the woman, touching her here and there, as you please, and how she stood there, terrified, in shock, losing her dignity, trying to fight them all off, twisting away from their probing hands. As if she was being tortured. That made him smile. Bitch had it coming.  
  
As he slapped more butter on the small piece of toast, he remembered how it was when he’d come to this house.  
  
He’d been seven. Still wet behind the ears, figuratively and literally. All he could remember was waking up in a bed with someone always hovering above him, making him drink this and that, every time the stuff tasting fouler. Then he fell asleep again and woke up again, with the same person’s face above him, mouth moving, but he couldn’t hear a thing. All he could hear were screams. Later he found out that the screams had been his. He didn’t remember pain, not really pain as pain, but more like a phantom feeling of something skinning him alive. He remembered touch, most of all.  
  
Gentle at times, but suffocating and bone-grinding at others. Jared had explained to him what had happened, how he’d been found completely wet, barefoot and naked as the day he’d been born, on a path that led from the town’s market to the town’s square. Found alone. He didn’t like to think about those times, because all they gave him was a headache and a sense of melancholy. He wished he’d still be that young, a child, with the whole house and its inhabitants protecting him as if he came from their blood. But they took him in, as if he had been from their own flesh and blood. Took him in, fed him, clothed him, educated him, gave him a home. They really didn’t have to do that, he knew that now. They really, _really_ didn’t have to do that.  
  
Honestly, even if his whole family, the real one, would come knocking on that door, asking him to come back to them, he’d shut the door in their faces. He was home. This, this living, breathing manor with its dented stairs and the people living here, were his family.  
As he looked at Corrine and Annabel and Astor and even Rolland, all he saw were his brother and sisters, and well, Rolland was more like his grumpy old grandpa. And when he looked at Jared, all he saw was … everything; a friend, a brother, a lover, a teacher, a protector, a father. And once, years back, when Jared had been so deep inside of him he could feel him in his throat and whispered Iloveyou before he kissed him, well … what did that make them, then?  
  
“So, toast’s gone.”  
  
“Uh?”  
  
He went way, way too far down memory lane there, so he startled at Jared’s voice.  
  
“I said the toast’s gone.” Jared squinted his eyes and for Jensen that either meant two things, a) Jared was worried about him and b) gentle sex. And because they were in the middle of breakfast, option two was out of the question. While he wasn’t shy, but having Jared bend him over in front of everyone, wasn’t really something that he thought would get him off. But then again, what did he know? Jared had taught him a lot of things about his own body that he never knew would feel good or were even possible.  
But, he was right. Option two was out of the question at this point, so option a) it was.  
  
“Are you okay, Jensen? You’ve been really weird the whole morning. I know you wanted to talk to me, so … you can talk to me.”  
  
He already had his mouth half open to spill the beans about what was up with him, but he closed it shut. It wasn’t Jared’s fault, for how the morning had been going. It wasn’t Jared’s fault that he felt annoyed the second he got out of bed. It was just … who he was, he supposed. There would always be tomorrow, another day to tell Jared in private what he needed to say. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, really wasn’t.  
  
He moved his hand from his groin, where he was still trying to get his junk to behave and moved it to the pocket of his vest. He fingered the key in there, the key he had made for Jared to lock his room’s door whenever Jensen was in there, because he lost count of how many times they were both interrupted while Jared had two or three fingers up his ass stretching him until he was screaming and begging. And then baaam, someone would burst into the room, making Jared pull his fingers out of his ass which really wasn’t pleasant and sometimes it downright hurt and make Jensen scramble for the blanket. Most of the time it was Corrine, and Jensen thought that she’d developed a kink for seeing them like that. He’d told her numerous times that she should knock and wait, but the little bad princess that she was just looked at him with her big brown eyes all innocent and whispered: “But Jensen, you look so pretty on your hands and knees, spread open on my cousin’s long fingers. Has he put all of them in you, yet?”  
  
And that was that and that was the time he decided that making a key was definitely, definitely something he needed to do right away. He needed to put a stop to her insane voyeuristic kinky ways, because if he knew anything about her, she’d one day outright demand to be included. He wasn’t really sure if he’d say no. But he … also … didn’t want to share Jared with anyone. And he didn’t want to give himself to anyone else, either.  
  
Jared was looking at him, expecting an answer, but he didn’t know what to tell the man. The truth always worked best, though.  
  
“I pissed off Lucius.”  
  
He was expecting a laugh, but he wasn’t expecting Jared to nearly fall of his damn chair.  
  
“You done?”  
  
Jared wasn’t done. Not even close.  
  
“You done now?”  
  
“Ahhh, Jensen that was just … you and that cat. Precious. Look,” Jared extended his arm across the table, getting his forearm dipped into melted butter, coffee spills and dirty plates, took the knife out of his hand and gripped his fingers, “I’ll tell Rolland that next week, he’ll have a little bit more laundry to do, okay.”  
  
Jared’s fingers intertwining with his made his dick jump to attention again. He finally had it under control, but one touch … warmth of those fingers, memories of what those fingers could do to him, inside of him, on him, how much power there was in them, how much strength … his mouth started to water. Just out of the blue, his mouth became flooded with saliva and he could barely swallow it all. He worked all of his muscles to get all that spit down his gullet, because he really didn’t want to start drooling in front of the man. That would be just a little too much for his pride to take.  
  
“Okay.” Was all he could say and the word came out in a gasp, because that’s what he felt like doing. Gasping, until Jared would say ‘that’s enough, you pretty, pretty slut of mine’ and push him out of the chair and keep on pushing him to the back of the ballroom, down the hallway and into his room. Push him on his bed, strip him naked, bend him in half and make him weep.  
  
“Great, now, if you’ll excuse me, miss _I didn’t give you one_ has had enough of harassment for today, right?”  
  
Well, he didn’t know the answer to that. He couldn’t move his eyes away from Jared’s face to see what his cousins were doing with the damn bitch.  
  
He didn’t care, they could’ve eaten her alive, for all he cared. All he wanted right then, was for Jared to come to him, push him on the table and bare his soul and body for all to see.  
  
Get a grip.  
  
He toyed with the key in his pocket some more, a distraction away from Jared’s face and a knowing smirk that started to grow there.  
Before he could even react to that fuckin’ smirk, the grip his fingers were in became stronger and he was being pulled straight from his chair, his chest nearly crashing onto the table top, his other hand coming to rest on the empty plate that had held the delicious toast, his head coming over Jared’s shoulder and his ear coming to rest right in front of Jared’s mouth.  
  
“We’ll get there, Jensen. Don’t worry. First, I have to go take care of the miss over there.”  
  
He gulped and his eyes went wide. This was a promise for either a rough sex or a slow, teasing one. Either way, there’ll be some blood and tears spilled on the sheets tonight, but he was okay with that. Jared had a magic touch, after all.  
  
He was let go as quickly as he’d been pulled all the way across the table. His feet were still trying to find the floor as he watched Jared slowly walk to where his cousins were still jumping all over the woman who now looked as if she was completely done with everyone and life itself. Her bun wasn’t a bun anymore, but a very messy ponytail. Her long, fresh out of a washing machine green-blue dress came undone at some point and she was trying to hold the whole thing up with her hands, but she wasn’t doing a good job at it because at the back it slipped down and Jensen could see the swell of the woman’s ass. Miss _I didn’t give you one_ looked as if she was one second away from crying.  
  
Jensen knew the feeling; he was one second away from crying too, if someone wouldn’t do something about his dripping, aching dick.  
He took a deep breath and walked around the table, to be closer to everyone else. They stood by the fountain, his cousins and the woman, while Rolland and Maria, the maid, stood ramrod straight opposite them, with their backs to the linen closets that lined that wall. It looked like a weird stand-off, although he already knew who the winner would be.  
  
Jared walked over there owning the room, owning the manor, owning his strides, owning the damn world, and when he was almost to the woman’s side, he called out: “So, miss _I didn’t give you one_ ,” when she turned around to face him, to speak to him, Jared was already near her and Jensen didn’t even flinch when Jared’s hand went straight into her chest. Right through what had remained of her dress, the corset that had come undone too – Jensen’s bet was on Corrine - and her ribs, directly to her heart, “it’s impolite not to give a name when asked.”  
  
Jensen was pretty sure the woman still heard what Jared said, but then Jared swiftly pulled out his hand with a squelch, holding her heart in his open palm. It was still moving, if only for a second or two, until it stilled completely.  
  
Jared’s arm was covered with dark red blood up to the middle of his forearm. Jensen could see the woman’s eyes go glassy and lifeless as she began falling backwards, right into Astor’s arms. Her dress came completely undone then, falling to the floor, making the woman look like a doll with the doll maker still deciding what kind of a dress to make for her. There wasn’t much color on her, as Astor held her, but a hole in her chest, spilling red down her stomach and ribs.  
  
“There you go, now you can play with her all you want.”  
  
Jensen smiled when Corrine squealed like a baby pig and tugged Jared down into a hug: “You’re the best, cuz.”  
  
“Let go of me, jeesh.”  
  
But he was smiling, while still holding the woman’s heart in his hand, pointing outwards, so not to soil Corrine’s beautiful red and black dress. Jensen was sure blood stains wouldn’t even be seen on the dress, but Jared, always the gentleman.  
She let go of him as fast as she hugged him and Jared still wore the silly smile when he walked towards Rolland, the butler and Maria, the maid.  
  
“Here,” he extended the hand and practically pushed the fresh heart into Rolland’s chest, “don’t say I never give you anything.”  
  
Rolland bowed down and said so many thank you’s that it made Jensen think Rolland and Maria hadn’t eaten anything in months.  
And then … then Jared turned towards him. Started walking to him, with the white shirt, stained with blood a little at the cuffs, and the gray vest and darker shade of pants and blood dripping from his hand, blood staining those long, strong fingers.  
  
Saliva flooded Jensen’s mouth again and he took a step back, as Jared took a step forward. Another one. Another one. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, pushing against his ribcage, he could hear running water in his ears, leaves rustling. His stomach was doing somersaults, his eyes nearly glazing over with fear and want. He was prey to a hunter right now. One wrong step and he’d get devoured, flesh pulled off of his bones with nothing but teeth, bones broken to suck out the marrow, spread open and sucked of all his juices. Made to bleed, made to scream, made to be eaten from the outside in.  
  
He took another step back, as Jared made another forward.  
  
He was human, while Jared was not and even though Jared knew the limits, had pushed Jensen to them and slightly over them at times, he was still scared. Turned on, so very much turned on, his dick a source of pain all over his lower half, but he was still scared.  
  
So, he took another step back and sat down at the table, the seat of his chair still warm from before. He could hear his cousins tear flesh from the woman, could hear them all slurping and ripping and tearing and chewing, but his eyes were glued to Jared.  
It was times like these that Jared terrified him, but it was also times like these, when his love for the man got even more cemented in his whole being. When Jared could fight his nature and come to him, slowly, openly; the love and trust between them grew even stronger roots.  
  
There was a glass of orange juice with his name on it on the table and he took it, sipping it slowly, watching Jared slowly sit back down on his chair. He placed the glass back where he found it and casually asked: “So…”  
  
“She was a lady. A relative. She wanted this manor and well,” Jared’s voice was a rasp of very carefully picked words, because Jensen figured the man wasn’t capable of much more at the moment, “can’t let that happen, right?”  
  
He nodded. No, couldn’t let that happen. No one would ever take this manor away from them. Jared had kept it going for centuries and Jensen, human as he was, nearing his thirties as he was, he wanted to spend centuries in this manor too.  
  
“So, uh, what are your plans for today?”  
  
He needed to tread carefully, let the adrenaline run out of Jared. Calm.  
  
“You gonna go out and … feed?”  
  
“Now, Jensen,” Jared leaned forward, breathing directly into his face, lips inches apart and just as Jensen was sure they’d kiss, Jared found his hand and gripped it by the wrist. His fingers were slick and warm with all the blood and as Jared sat back down, he stretched his arm across the table top. It wasn’t a wide tabletop, actually it was pretty narrow which was a nuisance sometimes, so he didn’t have to rip his shoulder out of its socket to get his arm across the surface. He watched as Jared turned his arm, so that the meaty underside of his forearm was pointing up to the ceiling and Jared’s hungry eyes, “why would I go out, when I have you.right.here?”  
He whimpered as he saw Jared lean down, because he knew what was coming. It was going to hurt, but he could handle it. He’d had worse, been bitten in worse places than his forearm. As Jared sunk his teeth into the meat, he screamed and came in his pants like the slut that he was for Jared’s bites.  
  
**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel is in the making. Thanks for reading.


End file.
